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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28570560">in this place where the shadows run from themselves</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/badritual/pseuds/badritual'>badritual</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Supernatural Codas [16]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Castiel Didn't Go to the Empty, Castiel Travels to the Empty, Castiel and Jack Rebuild Heaven, Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Castiel's True Form (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Prays to Castiel, Don't copy to another site, Gen, M/M, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Episode: s15e20 Carry On, eventual destiel, slowest burn ever</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:08:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,953</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28570560</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/badritual/pseuds/badritual</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Castiel had thought when he finally let himself feel the sun of his happiness warm his face he would simply cease to be. He would go to the Empty and he would relive his regrets one-by-one in an eternal, drugged slumber. It would be agony, sifting through all those painful memories like flipping the pages of an endless photo album. But it would have been worth it, knowing that he’d completed his task. That he’d saved Dean Winchester. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>And yet… And yet, that’s not what’s happened.</i>
</p><p>Castiel doesn’t go to the Empty.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billie (Supernatural: Form and Void) &amp; Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel &amp; Jack Kline, Castiel &amp; Jack Kline &amp; Dean Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester, Castiel &amp; The Empty | The Shadow (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester (mentioned)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Supernatural Codas [16]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/850104</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Wild Card</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Season 16, It's Time for a Fix-It! This takes place after the end of "Despair" and will hypothetically run concurrently with "Inherit the Earth" and "Carry On" before eventually outpacing them. Right now, I plan to stick to canon before moving beyond it, but that's a very loose plan and subject to my ever-changing whims.</p><p>Title from "White Room" by Cream. </p><p>Gen for now, but there will be Dean/Cas at some point.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Castiel doesn’t die, not as he’d expected to. Not as he’d meant to. Castiel had thought when he finally let himself feel the sun of his happiness warm his face he would simply cease to be. He would go to the Empty and he would relive his regrets one-by-one in an eternal, drugged slumber. It would be agony, sifting through all those painful memories like flipping the pages of an endless photo album. But it would have been worth it, knowing that he’d completed his task. That he’d saved Dean Winchester. </p><p>And yet… And yet, that’s not what’s happened. </p><p>In the blink of an eye, Castiel is deposited on cold, white tile. Not the endless inky black of the Empty. There’s no ocean of black goo rushing in to subsume him. No Shadow dancing just beyond his reach, taunting and poking at him, hissing all his many sins in painfully familiar voices before whisking him away to an eternal dreamland—or would nightmareland be more accurate?</p><p>No. Castiel is not in the Empty.</p><p>Castiel sits up slowly, blinking. All around him is gleaming white, pristinely buffed and shined to the point of blinding. </p><p>But it can’t be. This isn’t possible. It should <i>not</i> be possible. </p><p>“Hello,” Castiel calls out. His voice echoes off the sterile white walls. </p><p>A door he hadn’t noticed before opens at the end of a corridor.</p><p>And there stands Jack. Beaming, Jack lifts his hand in a gentle wave before he strides down the hall to Castiel and crouches, extending a hand. </p><p>Castiel reaches out, pausing for a moment, wondering if it really <i>is</i> Jack before grasping his hand tightly. He’s already dead. It shouldn’t really matter if this is one of the Empty’s parlor tricks, he supposes.</p><p>“I am me,” Jack says, as he helps Castiel to his feet. “In case you were wondering.”</p><p>“I was,” Castiel admits, gazing about in a stunned stupor. “Am I—are we in Heaven, Jack?”</p><p>“We are,” Jack says, reaching out and slapping at Castiel’s trench coat for imaginary dust. </p><p>“But I’m dead,” Castiel says, finally looking at Jack. Really looking at him, taking stock of his blond cowlick and his crooked smile, the lopsided collar of his white denim jacket. “Aren’t I?”</p><p>“Not quite,” Jack says. </p><p>“Did you pull me from the Empty?” Castiel asks.</p><p>Jack crooks his finger and motions for Castiel to follow. “You never went to the Empty.”</p><p>“You interfered,” Castiel says. He doesn’t mean to sound so accusing but what else could it be? “You kept the Empty from claiming me. Jack, I made a deal—”</p><p>“I didn’t,” Jack insists, turning and gazing at Castiel with an earnest look, eyebrows pinching. “I swear. I told them I’d be hands off from now on and I meant it.”</p><p>“Them?” Castiel asks.</p><p>“Dean and Sam,” Jack says, lifting his hands, palms-out, to Castiel. “I told them I would be around. In the wind and the rain. The trees and the flowers and grass too, I suppose. But I wouldn’t meddle like Chuck had. I wouldn’t break deals that weren’t mine to break.”</p><p>“If you didn’t break my deal, how did I end up here?” asks Castiel.</p><p>Jack stops walking and tilts his head at Castiel. “Don’t you know?”</p><p>“I’m afraid not,” Castiel admits, feeling sheepish. </p><p>The look in Jack’s eyes—distant and wise, yet still so very young—feels unfamiliar. He wonders how long he’s been gone. </p><p>“You did, of course,” says Jack.</p><p>“<i>I</i> did? But how?” Castiel asks. “The Empty was very clear about the terms of our deal. I <i>agreed</i>, knowing full well what I was signing my name to. How can I be alive?”</p><p>How can I be up here, amongst brothers and sisters who will look on me with cold indifference if they look on me at all? How can I be here and not with Sam and Dean? Our family?</p><p>Jack puts a hand lightly over Castiel’s arm. “I’m afraid it’s a long story best told over a cup of coffee,” Jack says.</p><p>“We have coffee up here now?” Castiel asks.</p><p>“First thing I did when I got here was install a coffee maker,” Jack says, breaking into a wide grin. </p><p>Castiel smiles back and lets Jack guide him to the cafeteria. After they grab cups of steaming coffee, Jack leads them over to a small bench that reminds Castiel of one from long ago. It is solid wood underneath him, and he takes some solace in that. </p><p>“So,” Jack says, sitting down and crossing his legs. He rests his cup on his knee as he swivels to face Castiel. “You want to know why you’re here and not there.”</p><p>“Yes,” Castiel says, cupping his mug in his hands and taking a sip. “I’m not entirely sure how this doesn’t negate my deal.”</p><p>“You’re the wild card,” Jack says, setting his mug aside. “The piece on the game board Chuck had never been able to control.”</p><p>Castiel tilts his head. “I’m following. I think.”</p><p>Jack leans closer and closes his hands over Castiel’s, eyes alighting. “When you summoned the Empty, we all thought you were lost to us forever,” Jack says, squeezing on Castiel’s hand. “The entire Heavenly Host sent out a distress signal. An Angelic APB, you could say.”</p><p>Castiel turns that thought over in his head. “Wait. Hold up. ‘We’?”</p><p>“I brought back as many Angels as I could,” Jack admits. “The Host has been depleted due to all the wars.”</p><p>Due to me, Castiel thinks, with a sad little sigh. “Ah. Yes.”</p><p>Jack gives his hand another squeeze. “I offered them a choice. They could remain in the Empty and I would put them all back to sleep. Or they could come with me to remake Heaven into the Paradise we know it can be. The Paradise we know it <i>should</i> be. I’ve got the blueprints here somewhere…”</p><p>“Is there a point to this story, Jack?” Castiel asks.</p><p>“Oh, yes,” Jack says, mouth splitting into a toothy grin. “Well, I went to the Empty. Asked around, looking for you. But all the Angels and Demons I spoke to said they hadn’t seen you. You see, it’s very noisy in there right now. They just won’t go back to sleep. So I got to wondering. Why hadn’t you gone to the Empty?”</p><p>Castiel puzzles over this and slips his hand free of Jack’s to rub anxiously at the back of his neck. There’s a strange nervous fluttering in his chest now. “I didn’t die. I didn’t go to the Empty.”</p><p>“No,” Jack agrees. “We actually thought you’d been reincarnated so we checked birth records for babies born at the moment of—well, what should’ve been your death. But Balthazar was kind enough to point out you’d only have been conceived, not born. And we didn’t really want to wait nine months to be sure, so we came back here to regroup.” </p><p>“And that’s when you found me?” Castiel asks. Jack nods. “And you didn’t bring me back yourself. The Empty didn’t send me up here because it never had me, either.”</p><p>Castiel scratches at the back of his neck, fingers curling in the hairs at his nape. </p><p>“It’s a mystery,” Jack says, clapping his hands. “I like mysteries. Don’t you?”</p><p>“Only when I’m not the mystery meant to be solved,” Castiel admits, with a sigh.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Lessons Learned</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“Will I be able to—to visit?” Castiel asks, haltingly, words stumbling into one another like drunkards on barstools.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Jack sighs, bowing his head, shoulders tensing and releasing almost imperceptibly. “I had a feeling you’d say that,” he murmurs. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Castiel’s stomach sinks like a stone. “I suppose the answer’s no?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Didn’t say that,” Jack says, lifting his head and twisting the corner of his mouth up in a wry half-smile. “But when I said I’d be hands off, I meant all of us too. The whole Heavenly Host. I thought it was time we stopped interfering altogether.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Castiel thinks of Dean, pressed against cool, unforgiving concrete where he’d left him. “Jack,” he starts, but Jack cuts him short with a slight shake of the head.</i>
</p><p>Cas and Jack take a walk and have a conversation.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Still kind of feeling around here.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Castiel and Jack walk side-by-side down a particularly long, gleaming corridor, Castiel with his hands clasped behind his back and Jack with his shoved into the pockets of his blue jeans. It’s a companionable silence they find themselves in, neither in any rush to fill it up with nervous chatter. Castiel’s thoughts meander away from him, from Heaven’s hallways to more Earthly realms. </p><p>“Am I hearing you correctly?” Castiel asks, reaching out and grabbing Jack’s shoulder, pulling him to a stop. “You want to give me an upgrade?”</p><p>“Replenish your Grace and give you a new set of wings, yup,” Jack says, grinning up at Castiel.</p><p>“How did you know my Grace was fading?” Castiel asks, letting his hand slip away from Jack’s shoulder. He almost expects to see a bloody handprint on his white coat, but there’s none. “I—I hadn’t told anyone about that.”

</p><p>It’s not quite the truth, but he isn’t ready to push or prod at those tender, aching memories just yet.</p><p>“I can sense it,” Jack says, tilting his chin up, a thoughtful expression briefly creasing his forehead. </p><p>“Will I be able to—to visit?” Castiel asks, haltingly, words stumbling into one another like drunkards on barstools.</p><p>Jack sighs, bowing his head, shoulders tensing and releasing almost imperceptibly. “I had a feeling you’d say that,” he murmurs. </p><p>Castiel’s stomach sinks like a stone. “I suppose the answer’s no?”</p><p>“Didn’t say that,” Jack says, lifting his head and twisting the corner of his mouth up in a wry half-smile. “But when I said I’d be hands off, I meant all of us too. The whole Heavenly Host. I thought it was time we stopped interfering altogether.”</p><p>Castiel thinks of Dean, pressed against cool, unforgiving concrete where he’d left him. “Jack,” he starts, but Jack cuts him short with a slight shake of the head.</p><p>“I won’t stop you,” he says, “if you want to look in on them from time to time. But you cannot stop what’s been set in motion.”</p><p>“What does that mean?” Castiel asks.</p><p>“You can’t interfere, Cas,” Jack says. “Sam and Dean reclaimed their stories from Chuck, but that means reams and reams of blank pages that have yet to be rewritten. Their stories might not have the endings either you or I had wanted for them.”</p><p>“Have you seen…?” Castiel can’t bring himself to give voice to the thought that plagues him. </p><p>Have you seen their deaths? Have you seen how Dean dies, Jack?</p><p>“Oh, no,” Jack says. “But I’m just saying. It’s out of our hands now. Their stories are truly their own, for the first time in their lives. It would be disgraceful to trample all over that.”</p><p>“They deserve long, happy lives,” Castiel sighs. “Especially Dean.”</p><p>“I know,” Jack says, gazing up at Castiel. Again with that all too wise, all too knowing expression on such a young, innocent face. “They do. And maybe they’ll have those long, happy lives. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”</p><p>Castiel gives Jack a short nod, unable to meet the boy’s penetrating gaze. He worries what Jack might see if their eyes met. Perhaps he would see that Castiel has doubts, even now. </p><p>“I know you love him,” Jack says, his tone soft and gentle like a spring breeze. Soft and gentle like the hand that rests now on Castiel’s arm. “But you <i>will</i> see him again, Cas. You can hold onto that.”</p><p>“When did you become so wise?” Castiel asks, reaching up to cup Jack’s face in his hands. </p><p>Jack grins, nose crinkling in a familiar way that plucks at Castiel’s heart. “I don’t know exactly when it all clicked, but I did have the best teachers.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Better World</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>In Heaven, once again fully Angel, Castiel no longer needs his Vessel.</i>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I imagine trueform!cas to basically be a gryphon the size of the Chrysler Building with thousands of eyes and many wings.</p><p>Things veer a little into AU territory here, with the way old!Heaven is constructed.</p><p>You might've noticed I took out the "mystery" and "Empty" tags. Well, the mystery of why Cas didn't go to the Empty will still be addressed! We've just gotten a little sidetracked. :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In Heaven, once again fully Angel, Castiel no longer needs his Vessel. He sheds Jimmy Novak’s visage slowly, unfolding and unfolding and unfolding, until it falls away from him like scraps of linen. It lay at his many feet in a heap and he means to discard it, for he has no use for it now, not ever again, but something inside him stills his hands. He cannot bear to part with it. </p><p>Rather than burn the remains of his Vessel on a funeral pyre, as most Angels did when their Vessel had fulfilled its purpose and the Soul had long since departed, he chooses to fold it back up and tuck it away. Like the old hunter suits he hung up in the closet of the Bunker guestroom he stayed in when he visited Dean and Sam. He rarely wore them, but he had liked to keep them nearby anyway. Just in case. </p><p>Here, in Heaven, he can unfurl his wings to their full breadth. Here, he can unsheathe his many talons and claws, and uncover his many thousands of eyes and sing in his true voice without worrying whether he will burn out human eyes or blast out eardrums or sear humans to ash just by looking at them. </p><p>Jack does not have a <i>true</i> form like Castiel’s, and so Castiel sits Jack on his shoulder and they walk together. From this vantage point, he reasons, Jack can see all of Heaven. He can see everything about this place that needs fixing.</p><p>“<i>I had no idea</i>,” Jack mumbles, as they pick their way through a densely wooded forest that had been the personal Heaven of some notable preservationist or another. </p><p>“<i>Of what</i>,” Castiel asks, as he pushes aside some trees so they can pass through and scope out the land Jack intends to use for his new project.</p><p>“<i>That you were so</i> big,” Jack exclaims. “<i>You’re as tall as a skyscraper, Cas. You’re magnificent!</i>”</p><p>Castiel laughs, a loud rumble that erupts from his chest like a clap of thunder. “<i>I haven’t worn this form in many, many years</i>,” he says. “<i>It feels as unfamiliar to me now as Jimmy Novak’s Vessel felt to me in the beginning.</i>”</p><p>“<i>What was it like, going from</i> this <i>to being…well, human-sized. Ordinary,</i>” Jack asks.</p><p>Castiel remembers folding himself in and in, until he could spill into Jimmy Novak’s open mouth and unblinking eyes. He remembers, at first, feeling trapped, wondering if such a tiny vessel would be able to hold him. Would poor Jimmy start to split apart at the seams? Not everyone, sometimes not even a chosen Vessel, was capable of holding an Angel’s Grace. </p><p>“<i>It was strange, at first,</i>” says Castiel, as he gently reaches up and plucks Jack off his shoulder. He cups Jack carefully in his palms and closes his many eyes, curling in on himself until he’s close enough to the ground that he can set Jack down safely. </p><p>Then he draws Jimmy’s Vessel out from its hiding place and pours himself back into it. </p><p>“But,” Castiel continues in his human voice now, smoothing his hands over the lapels of the trench coat that’s come to feel like a second skin to him. “I grew fond of this Vessel. Soon, it stopped feeling like a costume and more like a part of me. Now, I no longer need it, but I think I prefer this skin.”</p><p>Jack dusts his hands off on his jeans. “What do you think, Cas?” he asks, gesturing to the forest that surrounds them. “I was thinking we could start here.”</p><p>“Isn’t this already part of somebody’s Heaven,” Castiel asks, spinning slowly, taking in the woods and the grass, the blue sky and the fluffy white clouds overhead. </p><p>“It was,” says Jack, “but it still wasn’t quite <i>right</i>. I want to make it right.”</p><p>Castiel nods. “I see. What do you suppose you’ll put here, then?”</p><p>“A river,” says Jack, spreading his palms out. He grins, tucking his tongue against the gap between his front teeth. “Like that one river Dean took me to when I was dying. When we went fishing.”</p><p>Castiel gazes at him, his chest aching, eyes stinging. “It was a good memory?”</p><p>“The best,” Jack says. “I want my river to be a sort of…welcome.”</p><p>“A ‘welcome home,’” Castiel supplies, and Jack nods eagerly. </p><p>“There’ll have to be a bridge, of course,” Jack adds. “And rocks, maybe fish too. Otters? Beavers?”</p><p>“Of course there’ll have to be otters and beavers too,” Castiel says, with a smile. </p><p>“<i>Can</i> you make otters and beavers?” Jack scrunches his nose and tilts his head. “You can, right?”</p><p>“I can certainly try,” says Castiel, rolling the sleeves of his trench coat up. “We Angels were not so much creators, in the old days. Our Father thought it somewhat blasphemous. Like we were taking our pens and writing in the margins of <i>his</i> books, defacing them.”</p><p>“Your Father,” says Jack, scowling. “Chuck.”</p><p>“Yes,” Castiel says. </p><p>The corners of Jack’s mouth turn downward. “He wasn’t a good Father. And he wasn’t a good creator, either. We’ll be better, Cas. You, me, Amara. We’ll do it right.”</p><p>“I believe in us,” Castiel says, reaching out and clasping Jack by the shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. “We had an advantage Chuck never did.”</p><p>“Which is?” Jack asks.</p><p>Castiel slips his hand away and rubs his fingers together until threads of gold begin to spool out from his fingertips. Jack watches, eyes tracing the lines of gold as they dance on the air.  </p><p>“Family. Love,” Castiel says, as he begins to knit the golden thread together with the movement of his hands. “The Winchesters.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Building Something</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“You’ve looked in on him?” Castiel asks, looking over at Jack again. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Jack looks back, unfazed. “When I miss them, yes. Sam and Eileen are pretty happy. Or, at least they’re getting there. They’re working on it. But Dean’s…” Jack trails off, sighing, ducking his head.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Castiel frowns. “Dean’s unhappy?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Not exactly,” Jack says. He pulls what looks like an iPad out of the inner lining of his white denim jacket. “I don’t know. I can show you.”</i>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>still don't really have a plan but i hope people are enjoying this. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After Castiel is done knitting Jack a river, he shows him how to craft the fishes and the otters and the beavers. Jack does the rocks himself, pausing every so often to show Castiel his progress. He has a pile of speckled rocks by his side, each one glinting under the facsimile of a sun. </p><p>“I think I’ve got the hang of it now,” Jack says, spinning another rock out of dust. He holds it up and beams of golden sunlight skim off its surface. “I like rocks. They’re pretty but you can’t accidentally kill them by holding them too tight.”</p><p>“Don’t feel too badly about the fish,” Castiel says, patting Jack gently on the shoulder. “It was perfectly fine after I put all its bones back into place and healed it up.”</p><p>“It reminded me of the snake,” Jack admits, as he weaves another rock between his sparking fingertips. “I thought I was helping, but I really wasn’t. What if I’m not ready for this, Cas? What if I mess this all up?”</p><p>“That’s why I’m here, Jack,” Castiel says. “And you have Amara on Heavenly speed dial.”</p><p>Jack snorts out a soft laugh as he drops his latest rock atop his growing pile. “I’ve been thinking, Cas.”</p><p>“Yes?” Castiel asks, sitting back and toeing off his shoes. He reaches down and rolls his trousers up to his calves.</p><p>“I was thinking I could set Amara free,” Jack says, glancing over at Castiel and watching as he stretches his legs out and dips his toes into the water. “I should let her go.”</p><p>Jack mimics Castiel, slipping off his velcro sneakers and then his socks. He kicks his feet in the water like a carefree child, a smile spreading slowly across his face. </p><p>The two of them sit there in companionable silence, atop a moss covered rock, as the water laps gently at their feet and buttery yellow sunlight shimmers on the surface. It almost feels real.</p><p>Castiel hopes it’ll be real enough for the souls who will one day call Heaven their home.</p><p>“Do you think Dean and Sam will like it here?” Jack asks, abruptly changing subjects.</p><p>“I do,” Castiel says, kicking his feet in the water. “It will be peaceful. That’s what the brothers will find here. Peace and rest, with their loved ones.”</p><p>Jack <i>hm</i>s thoughtfully. “I was thinking about that. Their loved ones.”</p><p>“You were?” Castiel tries not to sound too surprised. </p><p>“I think for Sam and Dean to be happy, their Heaven should be filled with the people they loved the most,” Jack says, with a decisive nod. </p><p>“Of course,” Castiel agrees, uncertain—and wary—of where this conversation is headed.</p><p>“I’m going to make a place for Mary,” Jack says. “She’d want to be here when they arrive, I think. She misses them.”</p><p>“That’s a fine start,” says Castiel.</p><p>“We can make a home for Sam and Eileen and their children, too,” Jack continues. “But what about Dean?”</p><p>“What do you mean?” Castiel asks.</p><p>“He doesn’t have anyone else,” Jack says. “He has that dog, I guess. But he doesn’t really even like dogs.”</p><p>“You’ve looked in on him?” Castiel asks, looking over at Jack again. </p><p>Jack looks back, unfazed. “When I miss them, yes. Sam and Eileen are pretty happy. Or, at least they’re getting there. They’re working on it. But Dean’s…” Jack trails off, sighing, ducking his head.</p><p>Castiel frowns. “Dean’s unhappy?”</p><p>“Not exactly,” Jack says. He pulls what looks like an iPad out of the inner lining of his white denim jacket. “I don’t know. I can show you.”</p><p>Castiel glances down at the blank screen and waits with bated breath.</p><p>An image of the brothers fades into view on the glossy blank screen. They’re sitting across from one another in the Bunker library, a familiar scene that warms Castiel’s heart. But he notices the empty beer bottles lined around Dean, the crumpled fast food wrappers and empty take-out cartons scattered about. He notices too a cobwebbing of scabs on Dean’s knuckles and a sickly yellowing bruise under his eye. </p><p>Castiel had thought when he summoned the Empty that Dean would finally be able to be happy. He’d finally begin to live life for himself and not what he could do for others, not dangling on the ends of someone else’s puppet strings. </p><p>Maybe, in a dark corner of his heart, he’d even hoped Dean and Sam would give up hunting altogether. That they’d pass on all they know to a younger generation and retire, finally claim the lives they’d had in layaway all these years. </p><p>“I didn’t want this for Dean. For either of them,” Castiel says after a few very long moments. “I hoped they’d move on.”</p><p>“They’re hunters,” Jack says, matter-of-factly, taking the iPad and tucking it back into his jacket. </p><p>“I thought maybe with the big players off the board, they’d both be able to…” Castiel trails off with a sad huff of breath. </p><p>Jack touches his shoulder lightly. “Even with God gone, and Billie and Amara and the Empty currently occupied,” he says, with a wry half-smile, “there are still things that go bump in the night.”</p><p>Castiel nods slowly. “About the Empty,” he says. “I’ve been meaning to ask about that.”</p><p>“Yes?” Jack asks.</p><p>“You sealed it up, didn’t you?” Castiel says.</p><p>“For now,” Jack says. “I don’t know how long it’s gonna hold.”</p><p>“Can you get me there?” Castiel asks, taking Jack by the shoulder. “Can you send me back? There’s a conversation I need to have… With the Shadow.”</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Memories and Regrets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>After a brief consultation with some of the other Angels, Jack opens a rift to the Empty for Castiel to pass through. He explains it as a folding of the dimensions, demonstrating by folding up a sheet of paper and stabbing a pencil through the center. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Like a worm hole,” Castiel says, with a smile. He remembers that bit of knowledge from the millennia of pop culture Metatron had dumped into his head. He and Dean had watched the television show together in the Dean Cave, a bucket of popcorn situated between them. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“A what.” Jack stares back blankly at him.</i>
</p><p>Cas makes plans. And receives a prayer.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wasn't planning on updating so soon with another chapter, but I wanted to get this part out now so I can move on to Cas traveling to the Empty to find Billie.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After a brief consultation with some of the other Angels, Jack opens a rift to the Empty for Castiel to pass through. He explains it as a folding of the dimensions, demonstrating by folding up a sheet of paper and stabbing a pencil through the center. </p><p>“Like a worm hole,” Castiel says, with a smile. He remembers that bit of knowledge from the millennia of pop culture Metatron had dumped into his head. He and Dean had watched the television show together in the Dean Cave, a bucket of popcorn situated between them. </p><p>“A what.” Jack stares back blankly at him.</p><p>“I’ll explain it when I get back,” Castiel says, giving Jack’s shoulder a squeeze. “I shouldn’t be too long.”</p><p>“Are you sure this is a good idea?” asks Jack, reaching out and catching Castiel’s hand in his. “The Shadow was set on keeping you in the Empty for eternity. What makes you think it won’t try to keep you there this time?”</p><p>“The Empty has nothing to hold over me now,” Castiel says though, truth be told, he isn’t entirely confident. “I did keep up my end of our deal, it’s not my fault the Shadow didn’t come to collect.”</p><p>“I’m sure it’s probably angry, though,” Jack says, an uneasy look passing across his face. “I can tether you to Heaven. If something goes wrong, you can just tug on the string and I’ll pull you back.”</p><p>“The Shadow did breach Heaven’s defenses once before,” Castiel muses, with a grimace. </p><p>“With so many Angels choosing to return with me to Heaven, we’re in better position now to defend against an incursion,” Jack says, suddenly sounding wise beyond his three years.</p><p>“You’ve grown up so much in these last few months,” Castiel says, his Vessel’s heart twinging fondly in his chest. “Sometimes, I wish you’d been able to be a child.”</p><p>Jack lifts a shoulder in an awkward shrug. “Sometimes I wish I had been, too,” he admits, the corner of his mouth twisting up in a half-smile. “There’s so much I still don’t know. I think some of the Angels don’t think I have what it takes to do the job. I don’t know, Cas. Sometimes I think they’re right.”</p><p>“Is that why you want to free Amara?” Castiel asks. </p><p>“Part of it,” Jack says. “I think it would be good to have her here. We didn’t know each other well, but I trusted her. She knows what it’s like. Chuck hurt her just like he hurt you and me. And Sam and Dean.”</p><p>Castiel nods, his mind drifting to thoughts of the brothers. He wants to ask Jack if he can have another glimpse of them, but he also feels like once should have been enough. Looking in on them again, especially so soon, feels like asking for trouble. If something should go wrong, Castiel’s not sure he’ll be able to stop himself from intervening. </p><p>A sudden chill passes through him like a wandering ghost. </p><p>The world goes fuzzy at the edges and his head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton balls. Castiel lets his eyes drift shut and he tries to hone in on the odd sensation, but it feels like it’s coming at him from every angle. It feels like an assault of his senses, but a strangely gentle one. </p><p>He tastes the salt of tears at the back of his throat, but they’re not his. This is someone else’s pain. </p><p>And then he hears the voice.</p><p><i>Cas, God, I hope you can hear me. W—wherever you are. I know you’re probably sleeping. Like Sleeping Beauty or something. Does that mean you’re waiting for a handsome prince to wake you up with a kiss? Or, maybe… I don’t know where I was going with this. Actually, maybe it’d be better off if you can’t hear me. ’Cause if you can hear me, that means you’re awake and if you’re awake you’re probably reliving your lowlights, right? So maybe it’s better if you’re asleep. ’Cause at least that’d be peaceful. Right?</i>
</p><p>Castiel presses a hand against his forehead and squeezes his eyes tightly shut.</p><p>Jack’s still talking of Amara when Castiel drifts back into himself. “Cas? Are you all right?”</p><p>“Dean. It’s Dean. He’s praying to me,” Castiel murmurs.</p><p>Jack tilts his head, eyes widening. “Cas,” he says, concern laced into his words.</p><p>“I’m fine,” Castiel says, giving him a dismissive wave of the hand. “I’m not going to go to him.”</p><p>“You could go,” Jack says, quietly. “Angels answer prayers all the time. You just can’t alter reality or upset the flow of time. It might be a comfort to him.”</p><p>“Or it could make things worse,” Castiel mutters. </p><p>Hazy, rosy images float through his mind then. Dean, teary-eyed, blood-red handprint throbbing and pulsing on his shoulder, reaching for Castiel with trembling hands. Castiel grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him closer. </p><p>Dean leans in, gaze dropping to Castiel’s mouth, lashes fluttering as his eyes close. His breath is warm against Castiel’s lips. He’s so close Castiel can almost taste him.</p><p><i>It didn’t happen like this</i>, he thinks, clutching at his head. <i>I would</i> certainly <i>remember this.</i></p><p>A thunderous clanging—<i>Billie, banging her fist against door, dismantling the sigils</i>—shatters the eerie calm, wrenching Castiel out of the grip of this distorted funhouse memory of that night. </p><p>The image of Dean is gone, dissipated like smoke. Jack stands in its wake, head cocked like a confused puppy. </p><p>“What just happened?” Jack asks, a line forming between his brows.</p><p>“I think Dean’s memories of that night are reaching me,” Castiel says. “But they’re distorted. They’re <i>wrong</i>. They didn’t happen like…”</p><p>Jack’s mouth parts in an ‘O’ of surprise. “His memories rearranged themselves. He can’t look at what really went on so his memories have—”</p><p>“This happened before,” Castiel says, slumping back against the wall of Jack’s office. “When we were in Purgatory. I chose to stay and his mind couldn’t comprehend it, so he chose to remember it differently. It was too painful for him otherwise.”</p><p>Jack had the office, which had once been Naomi’s, reupholstered and painted. No longer stark white, it’s now decorated with splashes of color and posters of Jack’s favorite cartoon characters. It’s not very Godlike, which is why it’s perfect. </p><p>Castiel goes over to the couch opposite Jack’s desk and sits down, grabbing a stuffed teddy bear and holding it against his chest. </p><p>“How did <i>this</i> memory change?” Jack asks, joining Castiel on the couch. </p><p>“For one, the Bunker dungeon wasn’t as cold and drafty,” Castiel says, a wry smile curling his lips. “Rosier. Warmly lit. And when I grabbed him by the shoulder to push him out of the way of the Shadow, he leaned in like he was…”</p><p>Jack nods and makes a thoughtful noise. “I see.”</p><p>“You do?” Castiel asks, skeptically.</p><p>“It’s so strong even I can feel it,” Jack says.</p><p>“It?” Castiel asks.</p><p>“The regret,” Jack says, slapping Castiel lightly on the arm. “Not yours. Well, mostly not yours. But Dean’s. His regret and longing are all tangled up, and it’s rewriting his memories of that night.”</p><p>“I suppose that makes sense,” Castiel says. He reaches up and rubs at his chest, where it’s suddenly grown tighter and achier. “I’m still going to go to the Empty and talk to the Shadow, though. We can deal with this when I return.”</p><p>“Do you mind my asking why?” Jack asks. </p><p>Castiel glances over at him, hand still pressed over his heart. “I need to make things right,” he admits, after a few long moments of silence. “With Billie.”</p><p>“Billie? Why, Cas? She wants you dead,” Jack protests.</p><p>“There’s currently a power vacuum that needs to be filled,” Castiel says. “We need a Death. The Reapers are managing so far, but no one’s stepped in since Lucifer killed Betty. Billie might be willing to negotiate.”</p><p>“I’m not sure I like this plan,” Jack sighs.</p><p>“I’m not sure I do either,” Castiel admits. “But I have to try.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Into the Empty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>Jack, for his part, stands over a small black dot in the center of his gleaming white office. He murmurs quietly, palms spread over the tiny black mark, so low and quiet that Castiel cannot make out what he’s chanting. His eyes have taken on an unsettling, filmy white sheen.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>As he watches safely from the corner of the room, the dot begins to expand like an ink blotch, slowly at first. As the spot gets larger and larger, Jack’s chanting grows louder, and soon Castiel can hear the faint sound of wind and inhuman howls rising from the murky depths.</i>
</p><p>Castiel prepares to set out for the Empty.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Short little transitional chapter before shit really starts hitting the fan. :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Castiel stands silently in a corner of Jack’s office, twisting and twisting and twisting a little silver ring on his pinky. He’d only need to utter a brief incantation and twist the ring counterclockwise three times, then Jack would be able to pull him back into Heaven through the portal. It had seemed a little bit complicated—<i>counter</i>clockwise? And hadn’t Jack said something about a tether?—but he’d merely nodded agreeably and let Jack slip the ring on his finger.</p><p>Jack, for his part, stands over a small black dot in the center of his gleaming white office. He murmurs quietly, palms spread over the tiny black mark, so low and quiet that Castiel cannot make out what he’s chanting. His eyes have taken on an unsettling, filmy white sheen.</p><p>As he watches safely from the corner of the room, the dot begins to expand like an ink blotch, slowly at first. As the spot gets larger and larger, Jack’s chanting grows louder, and soon Castiel can hear the faint sound of wind and inhuman howls rising from the murky depths. </p><p>Jack lowers his hands, resting his palms against his thighs. He blinks his eyes, and the white cataracts blip away as if someone has simply clicked a button. He turns to Castiel, beaming. “I think we’re good to go.”</p><p>Castiel eyes the black, howling chasm with what he thinks is a reasonable amount of skepticism. “You’re sure it’s safe for me to travel?”</p><p>“The Shadow certainly won’t be happy to see you, I know that,” Jack says, his tone incongruously chipper. “Considering I haven’t made it back to the Empty to put all the Angels and Demons to sleep, it’s probably very cranky.”</p><p>Castiel sighs and runs his fingertip over the silver ring. “And you’re sure I need only to chant that spell you found, twist the ring, and I’ll be called back instantaneously?”</p><p>“It seems that way, yes,” says Jack. “I admit it’s a bit, well, convoluted. I read that word on a Word-a-Day calendar Sam kept in his room at the bunker. Convoluted, such a good word.”</p><p>“Jack,” Castiel says, pushing down the urge to snap his fingers at him like an impatient parent. “Will you be able to bring two of us back?”</p><p>“That might be tricky, but I think it can be done,” Jack says, as he folds his arms behind his back and begins pacing the length of his racing strip of a carpet runner. “You’ll both need to be touching the ring. Preferably by holding hands.”</p><p>Castiel sighs. If his plan is to work, he’ll need not only to get in the good graces of the Shadow—who has most likely been driven fully mad by the cacophony Jack left behind in his wake—but he’ll need to get in the good graces of Billie as well. Billie, whom Castiel himself had killed. If anyone had the right to a grudge, it was certainly Death herself.</p><p>“What happens if the plan doesn’t work, if it goes wrong,” Castiel asks, because, well. He has to. </p><p>Jack stops pacing to frown deeply at him. “You’ll be trapped in the Empty, Cas,” he says.</p><p>“Trapped?” Castiel stops fidgeting with the ring, stomach—if he had a stomach—plummeting like a stone. Straight to the Empty, he imagines. </p><p>“Yes,” Jack says, abandoning his pacing to approach Castiel, an unusually serious look steeling his normally cheerful, childlike disposition. “I can’t go to the Empty anymore. I made a vow to the Shadow when I brought back some Angels to replenish the Host. If you get stuck I can’t rescue you.”</p><p>Castiel suddenly has a very bad feeling about all of this. That old space pirate that Dean loved so much, Han Solo, had the right idea.</p><p>“I’ll be trapped there, for eternity,” Castiel murmurs, glancing briefly down at the silver ring on his finger. “As the Shadow had wanted in the first place.”</p><p>“Most likely, yes,” Jack says, with a heaving sigh that puffs his blond bangs off his forehead. “I could probably try pulling some favors, I’m sure Rowena would be willing to help, but I’d really prefer not to.”</p><p>“So don’t get stuck?” Castiel manages a smile even as his gut tumbles and twists and churns anxiously within him. </p><p>“Don’t get stuck,” Jack agrees with a decisive nod. </p><p>Castiel strides over to Jack and grips his shoulder tight, digging his fingers into the thick denim he hasn’t changed out of since he took on the mantle of God. </p><p>“If I <i>do</i> get stuck, though,” Castiel says, tightening his grip on Jack, “I just want you to know I—”</p><p>Jack shakes his head, cutting him off with a bright, cheery laugh. “Oh, Cas,” he says. “I know. I love you too. It’ll be fine.”</p><p>Castiel smiles and drops his hand, shoving both of them deep into the pockets of his trench coat. “If all goes according to plan, this shouldn’t take too long,” Castiel says. “And hopefully I’ll have managed to convince Billie to join us.”</p><p>Jack nods. “We could really use her help. Can’t have a fully-functioning Heaven without a Death,” he says.</p><p>Castiel turns and gazes on the ever-widening chasm. The screams of the Empty’s inhabitants grow louder the closer he gets, until they’re nearly head-splitting. Castiel lifts his hands to his ears, but that does him no good. </p><p>He pauses at the lip of the opening and turns, glancing back at Jack who watches on him from a safe distance. Jack lifts a hand and gives him a gentle wave. </p><p>Castiel turns back around and steps into darkness.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Long Walk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>The darkness ahead of him—around him, behind him—is thick and opaque like a blanket. He thinks of the deepest shade of black he’s ever seen—moments before his Father created light—and yes, this is even darker than that. His Father’s light had cut through the gloom, but this—this is the type of black that swallows all light. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Something pierces the din, muffling it to a degree, though not silencing it. The primordial ooze ahead of him is shifting, moving. He can see the faint shape of it resolving into something vaguely humanoid. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>The blackness falls away like a shroud and Castiel finds himself staring face to face with Dean.</i>
</p><p>Castiel finally makes it to the Empty.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>okay i think this is the last short chapter before we jump to the ~action~ and the monstrosity that was 15x20.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Castiel walks for a very, very long time. Though, he supposes, in a place like the Empty time is an essentially meaningless human construct. What is <i>eternity</i> to an Angel or Demon that’s been dragged into an endless, nightmarish slumber anyway? Eternity can both occur in the blink of an eye and stretch across an agonizingly vast desert of years. Decades, even.</p><p>From Castiel’s perspective, it had taken his garrison an entire age to slash and bleed and burn their way into the Pit to Dean’s soul. For Dean it had been four decades. For Sam, it had been less than a full year. </p><p>Perhaps this walk might not be taking so long if Castiel weren’t being assaulted from every angle by every mistake he’s ever made in his very, very long life. </p><p>An image of Anna floats in front of him, pale and wispy like gauze, eyes flaring with white light. He sees a small boy whose name he doesn’t even remember, writhing and shrieking on a motel bed while Castiel feels around inside his chest for his soul. </p><p>There’s Dean looking back at him through a wall of holy fire, face crumpling just as he steps through a cabin door that gapes open like a devouring mouth.</p><p>Castiel bats the last image away with his hand and it dissipates like smoke. </p><p>Another image floats up from the depths to torment him, but Dean isn’t in this one. Lisa Braeden lay prone in her hospital bed, staring up at him with big frightened eyes as he places two fingers on her forehead. A shudder runs through her and the fear slips away like a mask falling. Her son, Ben, tries to run for the door but he doesn’t get far. Castiel touches two fingers to his forehead too, and the same placid look comes over his face. </p><p>The Braedens stare blankly, vacantly after him as he strides out of Lisa’s hospital room, his coat flapping like wings. </p><p>Castiel had felt so damned <i>righteous</i> then, doing as Dean had ordered and wiping their memories clean. He remembers marching out of the hospital room feeling…not <i>satisfied</i> or accomplished, but as if he’d done the right thing. </p><p>He knows now—and, he thinks, he knew even then—that it had been the wrong choice. That he’d put his loyalty to Dean over the lives of two innocents. He’d taken away their choices, their free will, even as he’d railed to Dean and God and whoever else was listening that free will was at the heart of his doomed mission. </p><p>An icy shiver trickles down his spine and he stops walking. </p><p>The darkness ahead of him—around him, behind him—is thick and opaque like a blanket. He thinks of the deepest shade of black he’s ever seen—moments before his Father created light—and yes, this is even darker than that. His Father’s light had cut through the gloom, but this—this is the type of black that swallows all light. </p><p>Something pierces the din, muffling it to a degree, though not silencing it. The primordial ooze ahead of him is shifting, moving. He can see the faint shape of it resolving into something vaguely humanoid. </p><p>The blackness falls away like a shroud and Castiel finds himself staring face to face with Dean.</p><p><i>Not Dean</i>, a voice—that sounds suspiciously like Jack—whispers in his mind.</p><p>“You’re a little late,” says the thing wearing Dean’s face. “Thought you stood me up.”</p><p>“I got lost,” Castiel replies, clenching his hands into fists. The ring on his pinky digs into the fleshy part of his palm. </p><p>“Better late than never, I s-s-suppose,” the Shadow hisses, flicking its tongue behind its teeth. </p><p>It somehow moves closer to Castiel without moving, flicking Dean’s eyes over his face. Searching.</p><p>“I’m not here to give myself up,” Castiel says, tipping his chin up. “I think we both know you can’t touch me.”</p><p>“Isn’t that what you wanted all along?” asks the Shadow, twisting Dean’s mouth into a smirk. It puts a hand out, ghosting it over the back of Castiel’s wrist. </p><p>Castiel tightens his jaw and grits his teeth. “I can put all the Angels and Demons to sleep,” he says.</p><p>The Dean-thing drops its hand and advances on him until they’re nearly toe-to-toe. “You can do that?”</p><p>“I can,” he says, though he isn’t sure. He keeps his hands balled into fists. “There’s only one thing I require of you.”</p><p>The Shadow steps back and rolls its eyes. “Of course. There’s a catch.”</p><p>“Let me speak to Billie,” Castiel says.</p><p>“You want to speak to Death? The one <i>you</i> killed?” The Shadow cackles. Its laughter rings like church bells. “Surely you realize how foolish that is.”</p><p>“I’m quite aware,” says Castiel. He raises his voice, just in case Billie might be listening in. “But I think she’ll be willing to hear me out.”</p><p>Dean’s face flickers like candleflame about to gutter out. “Very well,” it says. </p><p>The Shadow snaps its fingers and Dean vanishes into the black goo with a sickening squelch. </p><p>Castiel turns, looking all about him, but he can see nothing but black. His heartbeat—a heartbeat? <i>his</i>?—thunders in his ears.</p><p>“This had better be good.”</p><p>Castiel spins around to find himself face-to-face with Billie. She takes a slow step forward, dragging the blade of her scythe through the ooze underfoot. Her leather coat flaps at her ankles, and he can make out the wicked glint of her steel-toed boots. </p><p>Castiel steps forward, swallowing both his fear <i>and</i> his pride. “Hello, Billie. We need to talk.”</p><p>Billie comes to a stop in front of him and twists her fingers, her scythe vanishing into thin air. She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m listening.”</p>
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